


Sometimes Jokes Just Have to Be Made

by ladyrogueevie (claire_debonair)



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-26
Updated: 2008-07-26
Packaged: 2018-01-05 13:40:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1094529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claire_debonair/pseuds/ladyrogueevie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Best birthday <b>ever</b>.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes Jokes Just Have to Be Made

**Author's Note:**

> Holy crap this is embarrassing. That title alone is enough to make me cringe, and the summary, oh god. I'm reposting only for the sake of organisation, but wow, is this terrible.

Frank arches his back, trying to fight down a whimper, and thinks that this might possibly his best birthday ever. It beats all the ones his mother ever had for him, with too much good food and screaming kids from the neighborhood. It even beats the last few he’s had on tour, which, even though they mostly consisted of running around like an idiot with the guys and getting drunk while trying to trick-or-treat in a strange city, were pretty fucking awesome.

Being in Gerard’s fucking huge house - which Frank is never going to tease him about, ever again, - is better than all of those parties put together, because it’s seriously just one giant crush of everyone Frank’s ever known. He strongly suspects that Mikey just sent a blanket text to everyone in his sidekick, telling them to be right here, at this time, on Halloween.

Which explains why there are so many Decaydance people in the house, jeeze.

Not that Frank really cares about who’s at his party right now, not when he’s gasping for air with two of Mikey’s fingers in his ass and one hand hotly possessive on Frank’s hip. Then Mikey lets go of his hip to pull Frank down for a kiss as dirty as the twist of Mikey’s fingers. It takes a moment for Frank to realize that Mikey is talking to him, words slowly becoming audible beyond the rushing in his ears. “Hold on, Frank, like that, god, so fucking hot.” 

Frank gasps and shudders, trying to push back and get more of the deliciously full feeling Mikey’s fingers are producing, but he’s stopped by Mikey’s hand spread over the small of his back. It’s a small detail, but it makes Frank shudder even harder. Fucking hell, how does Mikey do it? Mikey speaks again, something like “hold on, not yet,” but Frank’s more interested in watching his lips move than actually listening to what’s coming out.

“Frank.” Mikey does something with his fingers that makes Frank’s whole body lock up, not coming, just too overloaded to move at that precise moment. When he can think again, Mikey’s sitting up, pressing himself close to Frank where he’s straddling Mikey’s hips. “Not yet, Frank. Can you do that? Can you hold on for me?”

Frank has a snarky comeback, he really does, but then there’s a third slick finger just pressing against him, and it’s all he can do to gasp out; “Yeah, fuck, yeah, I can—Mikey, please, Jesus Christ, please.”

“I like it when you beg,” Mikey whispers against Frank’s throat, and then he lies down again, three fingers working Frank as skilfully as he plays his bass. Frank grips convulsively at Mikey’s cut-glass hips and tries desperately to think of anything but this, of how hard he is, fucking aching, because if there’s one thing Mikey can do, it’s be a goddamned tease, or of how-how--debauched Mikey looks.

Frank’s a little surprised he can think words that long, or put any emphasis at all on them, actually.

He doesn’t realize he’s got a hand around his dick until Mikey grabs his wrist and pulls, threading his fingers through Frank’s to stop him moving them back. Frank catches the warning glint in Mikey’s eyes and groans, the sound catching in his throat as Mikey slides the three fingers in just a little deeper, almost perfect, but not quite. Still not enough, still fucking teasing.

Hold on, right. Frank collects the few brain cells not killed of by Mikey-fucking-Way (he is never making fun of that t-shirt again. Ever) and tries to remember how he’d gone from jumping on Bob, and Ray, and Gabe, and- okay, jumping on everyone he possibly could, to being held a few vital centimeters away from Mikey’s cock and finger-fucked to within an inch of his sanity.

He’d assume it had something to do with Gabe, because shit like this tends to originate from him, but Frank’s pretty sure that Gabe had been safely out of the way and trying to convince William to do karaoke for the latter part of the evening. Pete’s out too, for pretty much the same reason, only it was Patrick and private karaoke. Everyone else had been more interested in dancing to whatever Travis was killing on the turntables to notice when Frank took a timeout to lean against a wall and grin his face off, so-

So that means it was his fault. Which, yeah, probably. Frank loses his train of thought when Mikey presses just-so with his middle finger, hitting that little spot that makes Frank whimper and drop his head, too far gone with the sensations Mikey is wringing from his body to care that doing so makes it even harder for him to breathe. Mikey’s hand ghosts up Frank’s chest to rub over and then pull on a nipple, making Frank jump and raise his head.

Mikey’s grin is nothing short of wicked, and it makes Frank grit his teeth, determined to hold on as long as Mikey fucking wants him to. He rolls his hips, just once, and grins breathlessly as Mikey raises an eyebrow in further warning. God, that shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but Frank’s given up on trying to be rational. He’s being fucked by – or will be, if Mikey will stop goddamn teasing – Mikey Way, of all people, which Frank did not see coming at all.

He’d been…oh, right. He’d been leaning against the wall, looking at the solid mass of his friends, wondering how he’d got so fucking lucky, when Mikey had appeared holding what looked like a Hostess cupcake, of all things, and a candle. Frank had stared at him in mild amazement as Mikey lit the candle and held it out solemnly, before rolling his eyes. “It’s from all of us, asshole, or would be if I could find them.”

Frank giggled and said “I thought you were king of getting through crowds, skinny fucker,” before leaning in slightly and blowing the candle out. The wish was easy; he wanted things to be as good as this, for as long as they possibly could be.

“Well, yeah, but tonight there’s a good chance I’ll elbow someone I’ve slept with, and I don’t feel like dealing with the shit that comes from doing that tonight.” Mikey was grinning as he said it, which is how Frank knew it’s okay to tease. Mikey can get weirdly defensive sometimes. Besides, he’d have birthday immunity anyway. He thinks; this is Mikey, after all.

“Yeah, I noticed that. How’s Pete?” Mikey shoots him an amused glance, which Frank was a little surprised he can interpret in the dim light, with at least two beers down him.

“Eyefucking Patrick every chance he gets, why?” Frank grinned and watched people dance. Mikey knocked their shoulders together; at some point he’d moved so close Frank could feel the heat of him all down his left side. “Hey, what did you wish for?”

“Can’t tell you, or it won’t come true.”

“Come on, please?” Mikey is disturbingly like a five-year-old when he wants to be. Admittedly, Gerard is the same, but he at least manages the puppy eyes. Mikey just looked…well, in the light he’d looked predatory. Understandable, thinks Frank with a moan, considering where they’d ended up. “A new guitar?”

“Fuck, no, why would I need another one?” He’s got a replacement for Pansy, and while it isn’t quite as good (yet), it’ll do. Besides that one, he’s got about five others from random places and companies, so he’s pretty much set there. “And trying to guess? That’s pretty immature, Mikey.”

“Yeah, well. Who gives a fuck?” Mikey grinned, a flash of white when Frank sends his own grin slanting back. “A pony?”

“…the hell? Why would I want a pony?”

Mikey had shrugged, and it had definitely been a shrug with intent, one that Frank recognized from going to more than a few clubs with him over the years. Frank had grappled briefly with his conscience, decided to consign it to whatever desolate wasteland Pete had sent his own to, and asked the obvious comment. “What, d’you think I need something to ride?”

Which had led them here, a room that has to be Mikey’s own. Figures, Frank thinks as he fails at stopping himself writhing on Mikey’s fingers, Mikey would have stolen one of Gerard’s rooms for his own. Freaking freaky Way brothers, and “fuck, Mikey, fucking fuck me, I can’t—” Mikey grinned up at him and pulled his fingers out and away, the loss making Frank whine only for a split second before he was being pushed back and down, ohgod, fucking finally.

Glorious stretch as he sinks down, the slick slide of Mikey’s cock into him causing the perfect amount of burn and friction that Frank has been desperately trying to get for what seems like hours, ever since Mikey had dragged him up here with a firm hand on his ass and lips insistent against Frank’s own. Mikey’s hands are at his hips again, holding him still as he breathes in sobbing gulps at being so full, Mikey completely inside him; Frank’s not going to be able to forget this in the morning, will feel the ache whenever he fucking moves.

Mikey moves his hands then, one going to Frank’s thigh to just rest, bare skin burning against Frank’s and lightly gripping him. The other curls too gently around Frank’s dick, stroking so lightly the pressure is barely there as Frank rolls his hips, stronger this time, and with more intent. Sweet slide, and he’s going to fucking kill Mikey if he ever takes this long before putting his cock in Frank’s ass, because it can’t really get any better.

Except it really can, as Frank speeds up and Mikey’s grip gets tighter. Still slow, but tighter and with a twist that makes Frank’s eyes roll back in his head as he lifts himself up with a shiver, thighs straining at he keeps his rhythm as controlled as he can. It feels fucking fantastic, but it can’t last; they’re both too worked up to keep it going for long, and Frank comes with a choked-off moan after Mikey licks his palm and strokes his dick strongly, with fucking friction, always fucking looking at him, eyes holding Frank steady as he tries to remember basic things like breathing.

Mikey arches off the bed as Frank’s ass clenches around him through the aftershocks, making a high noise in his throat and fills Frank with the desperate want to make him come like this, as ridiculous as he looks with Frank’s come cooling on his chest and his hair messier than Frank’s seen it since Mikey’s ‘angry lesbian’ phase. “Come on, Mikey, please,” he says, rolling his hips and grinding down, gasping at the over-stimulation.

“Fuck, Frankie, you-” Whatever Mikey was going to say is cut off as he twists and comes hard, fingers digging into Frank’s thigh so hard it makes him moan, knowing there’ll be bruises, and then moans again because it’s too soon for him to get hard again, but fucking hell the thought of bruises left by Mikey is a good thought. Frank catches his breath, grinning down at Mikey, then lefts himself fall forward and kisses him.

Getting disentangled and cleaned-up can either be awkward or fun; considering they’ve know each other for so long, it’s never gonna be awkward, although Mikey almost manages it after he suddenly looks up from slipping back into his jeans and says “Shit, we just had sex in my brother’s house.”

Frank giggles and throws Mikey’s shirt at his head. “Your brother will probably also be having sex in this house, idiot.” Mikey looks scandalized, and Frank falls onto the bed, he’s laughing that hard. Man, he loves messing with people. His laughter gets cut short when Mikey jumps on him, pressing him down into the mattress.

“Asshole.” Frank beams, unrepentant, and licks eagerly into Mikey’s mouth when Mikey leans in for a kiss. Pulling back, Mikey looks down on him, considering. 

“Wanna try this at places other than my brother’s house?”

“Um, yeah?” Frank tries to convey how much of an idiot Mikey is in those two words, and thinks he succeeds. He’s too busy laughing like an idiot as Mikey tickles him to care about his victory, though, and instead just tries to breathe. He hasn’t being doing a lot of that tonight, actually. Frank ends up on top of Mikey as they tumble gracelessly to the floor, and wriggles his hips as he sits up.

And, oh, there’s that spine-tinglingly good burn. It must show in his face, because Mikey’s wide grin gets sharper, and Frank shivers. It’s a good look on Mikey, although Frank’d be the first to admit that right now he’s a little biased. “Think Gerard’d mind if I blew his little brother in his house?”

Mikey’s eyes slide shut and his head falls back to the floor. “So long as he doesn’t know, probably not.” Frank’s just got Mikey’s jeans off again when Mikey pulls his head up via one hand in his hair, which is such a kink of Frank’s that he makes the most embarrassing noise. “But, dude, let’s stop mentioning my brother, ‘kay?”

“So no threesomes then?” The resulting tightening of Mikey’s fingers in his hair make Frank press his hips against the floor, unable to help the tiny rocking movements. He’s almost hard again, and if Mikey keeps tugging on his hair and making those noises, they’ll be heading for round two in no time.

Best fucking birthday ever, thinks Frank with relish, as he bobs his head and feels Mikey’s cock heavy on his tongue.

That is, depending on what Mikey comes up with next year.


End file.
